Hated
by Jetsam Porridge
Summary: Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep, Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die. The death of a rival marks the end of hate.


**Title:** Hated

**Author name:** Jetsam Porridge

**Author email:** jetsamporridge@yahoo.com.au

**Category:** Death

**Sub Category:** Angst

**Keywords:** Draco Harry death hate

**Rating:** PG-13

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** Do not stand at my grave and weep / I am not there, I do not sleep / Do not stand at my grave and cry / I am not there; I did not die.

The death of a rival marks the end of hate.

**DISCLAIMER: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various pubishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. Any similarities to any other works are purely coincidental and were not intended by the author. Poems belong to W.H. Auden and Mary Frye.

**A/N:** This was written late one night while I was feeling particularly angsty after reading Aja's 'Every Second'. The first poem is W.H. Auden's 'Funeral Blues' and the second is 'Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep' by Mary Frye. For those who are wondering why I wrote this when I should have been working on 'I Don't Know Why'... well, I was angsty. IDKW is happy. 'Nuff said.

A quick explanatory note - see if you can figure out which one of Harry and Draco is dead and which is alive, because I can't! This was written to go either way.

Thanks to Michal and her Virtual Red Pen for the beta job.

For Jessie, just 'cause.

~*~****

**Hated**

By Jetsam Porridge

~*~

_ Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,_

_Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,_

_Silence the pianos, and with muffled drum,_

_Bring out the coffin; let the mourners come._

_Let aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead,_

_Scribbling on the sky the message _"__He Is Dead__"__,__

_Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,_

_Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves._

_He was my North, my South, my East and West,_

_My working week and my Sunday rest,_

_My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;_

_I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong._

_The stars are not wanted now: put out every one,_

_Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,_

_Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,_

_For nothing now can ever come to any good._

- W.H. Auden 

~*~

God, I hate you.

I hate you for being born, for being born into a destiny that you didn't want and you weren't supposed to have. I hate you for being brought up the way you were because it made you the person you are. I hate you for letting them treat you that way because the fact that you tolerated it is so much unlike you that it frightens me. I hate you for letting them do all that they did to you, and for believing all their lies until you found out that they _were_ lies, and for telling me about it and how much you hated them and it and how much they hated you. I hate you because you never defended yourself, never, and you never got angry at them and you always let them do what they wanted.

I hate you for starting it, more than seven years ago. I hate you because you made me hate you, way back then. I hate you because you didn't know that what you did and what you said would start that stupid, stupid enmity and hatred and opposition and jealousy. 

I hate you for the first six years, of insults and curses and glares and competition and you always winning, always. I hate you because of everything you said and did and everything that made me want to strangle you or curse you into oblivion but I could never decide which because I was always too angry to care which one I did do. I hate you for always getting me into trouble, because you always made me want to do anything, _anything to be better than you, to beat you, to just once _truly_ win. I hate you because I couldn't stop thinking about you and you consumed me, completely, mind and body and soul._

I hate you for telling me all that crap about you because I didn't really want to know that you could be human too, and for only telling me because you were angry and you wanted to make me see that I wasn't the only one with shit in their life.

I hate you for withdrawing then, because suddenly you weren't there and there was no-one to compete against and I didn't understand it and what could I do if you weren't there to make me strive harder, aim higher, just so I could beat you?

I hate you because you left out of some obscure desire to do something, _anything_, and I couldn't  stop thinking about where you'd gone and what you were doing and why you'd even left in the first place because here, _here was where you were meant to be. _

I hate you because I didn't know where you were, or what you were doing or even if you were alright and were going to come back so I could fight with you again. I hate you because when you were gone I had nothing, _nothing_ to keep me going.

I hate you because when you came back, you weren't what I'd expected and you were good and you did the right thing just like I always knew you would. I hate you because of the way you looked that night, with your back straight and your head held high, so proud even though you didn't know what you were doing.

I hate you for the way you looked at me, and the way I knew then that what was between us went so much deeper than simple rivalry, and the way that I realized that I'd always known. I hate you for making me realize when it was too late that I possessed you and you me, and I was in your thoughts every second of every day, just like you were and are in mine.

I hate you for doing what you did then; you knew it was death but you did it anyway and I knew it was for me, because you wanted me to love and hate and laugh and cry and _live_, and I hate you because you won't be there to do those things with me and I know you should be.

I hate you because you didn't understand why you did it and you couldn't tell me and you lay there and you were bleeding and dying and there was _nothing_ I could do. I hate you because you did what I could never have done - you saved the world, you fucking idiot, you saved everyone and you saved me but you killed me at the same time.

I hate you because you died then and I knew that I would live the rest of my life with nothing to inspire me.

I hate you because everyone came to mourn you, and they all acted like they knew you and loved you because you were their hero, and all the while I knew that I was the only one who had ever known you, because our hatred linked us in ways that were just as profound as they were inexplicable.

I hate you because now I'm standing at your grave, just like I always do on this day, even though it was an age ago, and I'm spending my time on a dead man who cannot respond and didn't even realize he was mine while he lived. I hate you because I'm standing here and hating that you were born and lived and died and gave me every reason to hate you because you were who you were. I hate you because you weren't around long enough to make everyone see that they should never stop mourning you, because without you there is nothing good in the world.

I hate you, and no one else does, because they all think that you were sent from above, a blessing to save them from all that was and is Evil, but you were just a boy. I hate you because it's only now that you're dead that I realize that I can't live without you, don't _want_ to live without you, because without you there is nothing, because when you were living you were _everything _

I hate you because I am the only one that hates you, and the only one that comes here and cries and wishes that they were dead because surely this cannot be living. I hate you and I'm the only one with the right to hate you, because your entire life was shaped to make me do so. You are mine to hate, _mine,only mine, and you always have been and I possessed you in this world just as I will in the next._

I hate you because you were everything, and now you're gone and you've left me with nothing, and you're not _here and I don't know who I am anymore. I hate you because I'm still here, and you're not, and I was better when you were here. I hate you because you made me want what I couldn't have, and because you made me realize that there are things I can't have._

But I hate you most of all because without you I'm lost - I know the way home, but it isn't a home I want to go to, because you aren't there. I hate you because maybe somewhere, there is a home for me where you're waiting, and I hate you because only this imaginary home seems real.

End.

~*~

Do not stand at my grave and weep, 

_I am not there; I do not sleep,_

_I am a thousand winds that blow,_

_I am the diamond glint on snow,_

_I am the sunlight on ripened grain,_

_I am the gentle autumn rain,_

_When you wake in the morning hush,_

_I am the swift, uplifting rush,_

_Of quiet birds in circling flight,_

_I am the soft starlight at night,_

_Do not stand at my grave and weep,_

_I am not there; I do not sleep,_

_Do not stand at my grave and cry,_

_I am not there,_

_I did not die._

-Mary Fyre


End file.
